thoughts on blogging

I have been thinking about this blogging addiction lately and it is confusing me a bit. My main reason for starting the blog was to get some confidence with my writing and start this off as a platform for putting my often random thoughts down on paper and hopefully work towards my book.

Well it has now been quite a long road which has produced a steady stream of posts - nearly 390 posts since April 2011.

I realise that I am a person of contrasts.  I do not seek attention and hate drawing attention to myself.  My Friday post received more comments than usual and also resulted in a couple of emails and sms messages as well.  All very much appreciated and I am glad it was enjoyed, but at the same time it was a bit overwhelming and got me thinking.  

Why do I say contrasts?  On the one hand I like to know that people are reading my blog - I do push the "stats" button every couple of days to see what is happening and get pretty excited when I see that some unimportant posts from way back are still getting read.

Then I write another post, put quite a lot of effort into and it gets very little response (and then that makes me insecure).  Should I just remove it?  Why am I feeling insecure?  It is just a blog that I am doing for myself (or is it?).  

I have now started to thrive on the number of "likes" I get, which I suppose is interpreted as "attention seeking" and is very contrary to my "wear black and go unnoticed" policy.  I probably need counselling.

Then there is Michael.  He is not computer literate and I used to print out the posts for him from time to time so that he could read them too. But since I have been on the road and not desk bound he has not received any hard copy for ages. After writing a post like I did on Friday about his mother and concerning him, people made comments to him about it and I realised that perhaps I should print it out for him to read.  So I did and went to hide away while he read it.

Before I gave it to him, I re-read it and thought that I perhaps am starting to come across as a "do-gooder" and painting a far better picture of myself than what I really am.  I write honestly and usually without re-reading and, if you know me, the writing is very much how I speak (sorry, babble). 

I am a daughter, sister, wife, mother and friend who does her best and feels the need to uplift people more than to write about the sad and bad. I feel that I have got to know my audience too.  I can pre-empt a comment from Judy or Hope when I post any music, I know those who love to see my garden, and those who prefer to read about wine or family stuff. It is satisfying when I hit a cord with my words (or the words of a song or a poem).  I sometimes sit for ages trying to make a decision about one sentence because I know it is going to make my mother cry.  Then I often leave the sentence in and wait for the sms "You made me cry".  (I have a cruel side).

The main point: -   I thank you for your support and the fact that you let me know when you enjoy a post but I am not a saint or amazing or incredible (in fact I am very ordinary).  I am not doing this for accolades or to make myself out to be special - because I am no different to anyone else.  I try to always be positive and I have been fortunate enough to be blessed with a happy disposition so I do find it easy to look for the good in most situations.  

I am not sure whether this post has made any sense.  I'll leave it up to you to let me know.

I am looking forward to getting my teeth into some meatier stuff in 2013 and am starting a series "Letters to Amy and Kelly"

So expect a lot more to come but remember it is me, Jenny (the wine loving and selling, menopausal one who best get moving and be off and sell some wine).

never too late for a resolution

You probably did not even notice but there was a noticeable lack of "New Year jargon and motivation for 2013" on my blog this year.  The heat of January has slowly infiltrated my already spongy brain and I have busied myself with some "new and out of my usual box" experiences, which I thought I would share with you.

Michael's mom is dying.  We cannot tell how long it is going to take but we are hoping that her sons from Boston and Canada do get here to say their goodbyes.  I have been blessed this week with 3 relatively good visits to see her.  Over the Christmas / New Year period whenever we arrived to visit she was in a deep sleep.  This week however I have caught her in the morning and she has been responsive.  I am not experienced at this and feel a little stupid at times but I have decided to do the reading and praying option (I put my foot down for any singing - that could push her over the edge).  

For Helen's 90th birthday (nearly 3 years ago) the family collected letters and photographs from friends and family all over the world.  It was then put into a scrapbook which over the last couple of years she has read often.  There is lovely mix of letters and cards in the scrapbook and there are a couple that I read to her over and over again.

Her daughter Jennifer, who lives in the UK, wrote a lighthearted letter where she listed memories of her childhood through to adulthood which were special to her.  "I remember being about 5 years old, walking to the shops with you, listening to stories about you when you were a little girl and  I felt very special to be alone with you while my 3 older brothers were at school".  This one sentence gives Helen a faraway look in her eyes and a big, gentle smile.

Her daughter-in-law, Judy in Boston wrote a wonderful letter about their daughter-in-law / mother-in-law relationships and the similarity of the paths they followed.  She quoted words from Ruth, in the bible, and makes mention of two favourite hymns.  Now Helen's voice is failing and she nods and smiles in recognition of the hymns. I certainly could not sing them.  What was I to do?  I read the words of the hymns to her and then last week her great friend Connie brought along a CD of all the popular Methodist hymns.  This was the answer.  Now I read Judy's letter to her and tell her to hold on, while I fiddle with the CD player and play Love's Divine at full volume while she smiles to herself and taps her very long and thin fingers on her lap.

Some letters are too long, some of the people I do not know but by reading a couple of lines from these letters seems to give her some joy, a smile and a nod of remembrance.

The American Scrapbook idea is a wonderful one to bear in mind for a gift for your parents or grandparents.  The one I put together is by no means fancy.  I used an expensive flip-file and printed the messages on coloured paper and together with birthday cards and old and new photographs it really is a wonderful testament to the woman, Helen Kotze.

While this is a sad time we feel more for the family who are overseas.  There is no knowing how much longer she will linger on, she is losing weight and only eating small amounts of smooth food, drinking water and apple juice.

While this is not something that one hopes to have to do often, it is giving me lots of satisfaction in making Helen's life a little bit better and this experience will, in turn, help me to help my family and friends when they are faced with a similar situation.

The nervous way I used to walk into her flat has changed - I am no longer afraid of what I am going to find because in that frail body is the same woman who has lived, loved and fought the system.  I learn a little more about her each day.  If she is not afraid of dying (and has been requesting it for months and months) why should I be afraid to watch her die.

She now seems resigned to her end, she is peaceful and loving and most of all is always grateful.

That was slightly side tracked but here are some other things to share with you:-

“Most good things happen without a plan: friendships, 

falling in love, 

finding a job, and so on. 

If you want to make your new year count, 

you’ll need to be intentional — not by setting goals, 

but by making space in your life 

for what really matters.” 

Jeff Goins

and then:

“Life will break you. Nobody can protect you from that, 

and living alone won't either, 

or solitude will also break you with its yearning. 

You have to love. You have to feel. 

It is the reason you are here on earth. 

You are here to risk your heart. 

You are here to be swallowed up. 

And when it happens that you are broken, or betrayed, 

or left, 

or hurt, or death brushes near, 

let yourself sit by an apple tree 

and listen

 to the apples falling all around you in heaps, 

wasting their sweetness. 

Tell yourself you tasted as many as you could.”

Louise Erdrich, The Painted Drum LP

This will be my resolution:-

If you want to make your new year count, 

you’ll need to be intentional — not by setting goals, 

but by making space in your life 

for what really matters.

I like that!!

queen of nothing....king of the world

I had a great day today.  It started with an early morning walk, with my camera, taking some pictures on the way to St Luke's Road to see Kelly off to school.

They were all up and ready to go and even with 32 degree predicted for today, she was having to take her blazer "because it has a pocket and I need to have a pocket for my map of the school".  

I then got home and did a few chores and headed to Wine Time for a meeting.  The meeting went well and Steve, while walking out the door made a call and in a tick, sealed a big wine order.  Being the efficient business we are, I decided to deliver the wine immediately.  The weather has been extremely warm and yesterday I put my beach towel and bathing costume in the boot of the car (one of the many lessons from John Rosslee "never miss the opportunity for a swim in the sea and always carry at least a beach towel in your boot").  The wine was delivered, I was at the end of the M3 and had an hour to spare so I headed for the beach.  After some deliberating, I decided on St James and found a parking spot without too much trouble.  This proved to be the easy part.  The beach was pretty full but there was not a free changing room in sight.  Every one of those little bathing boxes was filled with people either eating their lunch, sleeping (?) or filled with children playing.  There was one empty one which, when I entered it, I realised why it was empty.  The door would not close properly (with that smell you would not really want the door closed) so it was not going to work and I made a hasty departure.

The fact that I did not have my bathing costume on was not going to spoil my time on the beach.  I found a spot on the sand, took off my pants (don't worry I had a long top over them), lay on my towel and read a couple of chapters of my book.  I did venture into the water before leaving (again, don't worry I did not swim in my clothes) for a splash around and to get some salt water on my skin.

Driving back I stopped off The Little Fisherman in Lakeside and bought a yellowtail for supper.  It was a glorious ride back.  I had decided not to use the airconditioner and opened the windows wide and played the music on top volume (it had to be with the wind tearing through the car).  Nic had made me a new CD for the car and this song I ended up playing on repeat.  So many times that I now know all the words.

The perfect "road trip" song:-

At ten in the morning 

I was laughing at something 

At the airport terminal 

At nine in the evening 

I was sitting crying to you over the phone 

Well passing the border from a state to another 

Filled with people whom I couldn't help to relate to 

And we stopped a while at a roadside restaurant 

Where the waitress was sitting outside smoking in her car 

She had that look of total fear in her eyes 

And as we drove away from there she looked at me and 

She smiled 

I keep running around 

Trying to find the ground 

But my head is in the stars 

And my feet are in the sky 

Well I'm nobody's baby 

I'm everybody's girl 

I'm the queen of nothing 

I'm the king of the world 

And once you asked me well what's my biggest fear 

That things would always remain so unclear 

That one day I'd wake up all alone 

With a big family and emptiness deep in my bones 

That I would be so blinded, turn a deaf ear 

And that my fake laugh would suddenly sound sincere 

Now I wasn't born for anything 

Wasn't born to say anything 

Oh I'm just here now and soon I'll be gone 

I'm nobody's baby 

I'm everybody's girl 

I'm the queen of nothing 

I'm the king of the world 

Now everyday there's a short intermission 

While I sleep they start dimming the lights 

But I've seen everything I ever want to see 

Screaming "Fire!" in a theatre people taking their seats 

Watch it all go down like a stone in a stream 

If you fall for your reflection you will drown in a dream 

Tell me something real 

Tell me something true 

I just want to feel there's something left that I can do 

But I'm nobody's baby 

I'm everybody's girl 

I'm the queen of nothing 

I'm the king of the world

Funny how sometimes a very ordinary day can turn into something special.

Oh and I visited Kelly this evening and she had "the coolest day".  She also has "the coolest teacher" and a new friend called Cameron.  She did not have to wear her blazer.

One more thing, the yellowtail was amazing - Matthew braaied it to perfection and we had it with new baby potatoes, baby broccoli spears, a green salad and perfectly chilled wine.

I keep running around 

Trying to find the ground 

But my head is in the stars 

And my feet are in the sky 

jenny turns into joan

This is not about me turning into my mother (who is Joan) it is about questioning myself and why when I watch award ceremonies I turn into Joan Rivers.

Maybe I have seen a few too many of her shows but last night, while Michael read the newspaper and did some work at the table, I sat on my cushions on the floor (on my own), armed with nothing but a glass (or two) of wine and hurled oohs and aahs at the screen.  Watching these shows you expect to see beautiful dresses worn by even more beautiful woman, handsome men with designer stubble in dark suits - it is all so wonderful and I become totally absorbed and act as though I am right there in the audience.  I even have a pencil and piece of paper right next to me so that I can remember everything and be able to mention around the Saturday girls lunch table "Oh my word, did you see what Jennifer Lopez was wearing?"  "Did you see what horrible hands Quentin has?" "How funny was Will Ferrell with that girl from "Bridesmaids"?"

Why then do I become this horrible critic and rewind and pause the pictures of the "shock value" actors?  Did you see what Jessica Lange looks like now?

And Nicole Kidman?

At least her eyes are still pretty and blue but why are they always bloodshot?

Helen Hunt was not far behind but Sylvester Stallone must have been the most scary of all.  He looked like he was made of putty  He would have been followed closely by Dennis Quaid.  Who would think that men could be so vain?

Why so when Jeremy Irons, Daniel Day Lewis and Kevin Costner improve with age?  

Quinton Tarantino and his dyed hair - he is seriously strange.  Did you see him spit out his champagne?  I was so excited for Ben Affleck to get both awards for Argo after being snubbed by the Oscars. I have always like him (must be because of his passion for Jennifers) and his wife, Jennifer (number 3) is gorgeous.  It does make you wonder though who is actually doing the voting and were they trying to show up the Oscars (interesting write up here)

Adele looked lovely and actually slimmer after having her baby than before. She added some natural English humour and down-to-earthness to the show.  

Then, Jody Foster, if you could follow her words which were babbled out so fast, clearly moved the audience but I did wonder why she did not slow it down and actually mention the word "lesbian". A serious Duracell bunny who I suppose was pressurised into "coming out" but why when everybody already knows?  Well done to her though and she drew attention to the hard life that comes with being in the spotlight.  This article from the Huffington Post gives you some of the verbatim (if you missed it and I watched it and missed it) and also reminded me that her mother was still alive and suffering from dementia.

All this and I have not yet mentioned the outfits.

Looks like Julie Andrews sewed this one up quickly for her

Should I show my legs or not?

Best actress, who I have never heard of - Jessica Chatain. What a beautiful woman and a wonderful speech but really who paid her to wear this dress?  It obviously was a real surprise to her that she won.  Her mother would have told her that eventually her breasts would sag so while they are pointing in the right direction wear them proudly!! 

So it was a thoroughly enjoyable evening for me on the couch (sorry floor).  I can't wait to see Les Miserables and sad that it is probably going to come to Cape Town after the Cinema Nouveau closes in Cavendish (but that is another story).